Staying Dry
by Oleander-Tea
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo's inner soul wasn't always a primitive picture of M.C. Escher's works. No one knew this better than Zangetsu, who, though he would never admit it, freaked out more than Ichigo did over its ninety degree shift.


_**Staying Dry**_

Author's Note: This is my first Bleach attempt. A second chapter will come in another point of view. (Edit: 7/12, spell-checked.) (Edit: 8/28/2011, revised)

* * *

Kurosaki Ichigo's inner soul wasn't always a primitive picture of M.C. Escher's works. No one knew this better than Zangetsu, who, though he would never admit it, freaked out more than Ichigo did over its ninety degree shift. At the time, Zangetsu had cleverly hidden in a smaller building as his world churned, rain clouds conglomerated, and water poured outside. The old man had been forced out into the painfully disorienting cityscape after his sanctuary had shattered; from then on, none of the buildings had doors anymore. Only indestructible windows made of diamond and unbreakable walls of steel.

At first, the rain wasn't so bad, Zangetsu thought. At first, the smell of cold water on metal was enticing and new and Zangetsu didn't mind so much. At first, the change of scenery was interesting and piqued Zangetsu's curiosity. But after hours, weeks, years of relentless rain, no ferocity nor gentleness in its slow _pitter-patter_ spray upon the cityscape, Zangetsu grew to despise the audacity of the cause of Ichigo's sudden change in nature. Though the rain never solidified into hail or snow, he was sure that he was subjected to subzero temperatures, his breath frosty and light in the misty air. And as much as he poked, prodded, pounded at Ichigo's mind to toughen up and _get the hell over it_, Ichigo never so much as felt a tickle of Zangetsu's desperate pleas.

So Zangetsu learned to sleep.

It was tough to sleep: Zanpakutou do not require sleep. They required training, activity, and a relationship with the person whose soul they inhabited. But Zangetsu forced himself to close his eyes, his body, his mind to the barrage of soft water droplets and the cruel insensible cold and curled up on the side of a building wrapped up in the black flames of his robes and slept. He slept restlessly, often tossing and turning, waking frequently in fervent irritation, but the broken bouts of unconsciousness would be as much asylum as Zangetsu could ever take in within Ichigo's static state of mind.

Ichigo was stuck in a rut, and Zangetsu was the only one who could help. The old sword knew this fact, and yet continued to sleep, having despaired in Ichigo's strength to move forward. _Humans are made of flesh and are weak_, Zangetsu would think bitterly._ Humans should not punish their souls like such._

In a deep corner of Zangetsu's mind, he knew that he was being childish. _Ichigo will come through_, a voice would whisper. _Ichigo is strong._

Yet Zangetsu slept anyway. There would be no other way for him in the insufferable rain. Ichigo had changed, and so would he.

* * *

The old soul slayer awoke one day uneasily. He knew there was something wrong before his eyelids contracted open. The liquid droplets drumming on his skin were warm.

Zangetsu's eyes opened. Instead of the gray torrent of liquid water that has now become his home, a hazy white sheen enveloped the buildings and swirled around him.

The sky was blue.

Zangetsu's curiosity piqued up again and he lifted his aching body off of the only surface not covered in snow. As he picked up one foot to move, he noted the feeling of unease still tickled the hairs on the back of his neck. Zangetsu turned around, drew a sharp intake of breath, fell a half step backward, and furrowed his eyebrows. Zangetsu had never seen a human before, but he was fairly certain in his endless life as a soul slayer, he knew what one looked like. It came naturally to his mind, as certainly as he knew his name.

While the life form in front of him _seemed _to be a scowling (beautiful) woman, Zangetsu knew that women, scowling or not, did not possess triangular ears at the top of their heads, nine fluffy fox tails billowing magnificently behind them, and eyes so amber they glowed.

And were those...miniature _fangs_?

No, this was no human. This was...

"Where is Rukia?" she demanded icily.

Zangetsu knew that her mouth had moved, but the sound he heard had echoed in his mind, neglecting the hassle of reaching his brain through his eardrums. What a waste of a perfectly good sensory organ.

"Where did the rain go?" was his reply.

It took one week for the two soul slayers to break down the barriers protecting themselves from outsiders and trust each other. Learning Shirayuki's name was the prize of telling her his first. In the process, he discovered that while Shirayuki possessed a freezing, feral, fearless kind of beauty that was a projection of her very nature, she also emanated a sense of strength and stability that could have only come from years and years of pain. With Sode no Shirayuki, there would be no hiding in fear, no squeezing in between crevices, no hesitancy; with Sode no Shirayuki, if one didn't like rain, one made it snow instead.

Too bad Zangetsu never learned that trick from his companion, because one day, they day that he was sure Ichigo was going to fight him into submission, Shirayuki disappeared in a wide-eyed "_Oh_!" and what seemed to be a flurry of pink cherry blossoms. Zangetsu had reached out his arms to grab her elegant limbs, but could not reach her.

Shirayuki could not be touched by just anyone, you know.

The instant she was gone, Zangetsu's eyebrows depressed together into a frown as he realized that the downpour of warm, delicate snowflakes had resumed, once again, into liquid droplets of icy dreariness. With a resigned sigh, he burrowed into the snow piled on the buildings before they melted and washed away his hope. Zangetsu would learn to be like Shirayuki, strong and vigilent, patient and at ease.

When Ichigo finally heard Zangetsu's name, the old soul slayer did not tell him that this world was once inhabited by two; his longing for Shirayuki was matched pain for pain in the young boy's eyes.

**end**


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